“Yes, I was awake. Really, Trix, I’m afraid I was a bit homesick. But never mind me. Can’t you feel me tr-r-r-em-bell, awaiting your story?”
“Walking at this pace is an absorbing occupation,” objected Trixy. “Let’s sit down and talk like civilized folks.”
A squat on the big rustic bench under the Twin Oaks didn’t look very civilized, but it was better for confidence than was racing.
“I was just turning in with ‘Whirlwind’ (he’s a lovely little horse,) when I saw or rather heard a party trotting along from the Sound Road,” began Trixy. “They were on a regular trot and coming like the wind. I pulled to one side to let them pass, and that put me behind the line of low cedars. They couldn’t see me but I faced them——”
“Who?”
“I only recognized one. Jack. You should have seen her! She looked like a poster girl.”
“Jack!”
“Yes. Her hair was loose, it must have fallen from under her hat, a brown felt, and her habit! It wasn’t a habit at all, but shirt and trousers like a regular little Broncho Billy!”
“Our Jack——”
“Yes, indeed. I might not have believed my eyes if my ears hadn’t helped. Just as her horse swung into the lane she called to him. It was certainly Jack’s voice,” declared Trixy, still mildly excited over the unusual encounter.